


Wonderfall

by Sylvalum



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, somewhat AU-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/Sylvalum
Summary: I wander around the catacombs, and don’t really get why he’s chasing me for being a vampire when he’s just as otherworldly as I am. Bloody hypocrite.





	Wonderfall

It’s the first year at Watford.

And the Crucible has the audacity to throw me together with _Snow._

I can’t just not walk up to him, however much I’d like to, so instead I stride toward him as impressively as I can. Stops in front of him, notes that I’m taller. And then he holds out his hand, ordinary blue eyes and bronze curls, and I glare at him haughtily-- but then, something about him flickers. Him. The air around him. It… darkens. I can’t tell what, but for a second it’s like he’s transparent, layers overlapping-

-and then, everything is exactly as it was.

Nothing happened. _Something_ definitely happened.

I don’t understand, I can’t understand, but the tug in my abdomen is becoming unbearable so I have to shake his hand. 

It feels like it’s something _else_ than just a roommate I’m signing up for…

* * *

The worst bloody thing about this whole disaster, is that I’m the only one who ever notices anything.

Snow is just sitting right _there_ , in the middle of the classroom, as he always has and always will, maybe he’s taking notes or maybe he’s just doodling – and then, suddenly it’s like he’s glowing. Like his form was plastered onto the rest of the world, like he’s a shiny new something and the rest of the classroom is just dull grey and brown while he _glows_ -?

Snow, in the canteen for breakfast with a plate of scones, reaching for something – while a dragon’s tail, scaled and slender, suddenly whips around his legs. Disappears as soon as he sits back, holding the teapot in very human hands. Or: Snow, glaring at me with normal blue eyes – except that then they flash green, red, gold, iridescent…

And my personal ‘favourite’: the five minutes of terror one Monday morning when _I could only see his skeleton_

I tried asking him about it in our third year – well, more like sneering at him and saying how incredibly hard it must be for him to control his magic, _just had to turn your skin azure and translucent, didn’t you, Snow_? (Like a merman. A good-looking merman, not like the ones with four glowing eyes and cave-like mouths full of razor-sharp teeth.)

-in response, he looked at me like _I_ was the one turning mad. 

…I’ll wake up, and the whole room smells like roses. Sickly sweet— and with a proverbial snap of Snow’s fingers, it’s back to smelling faintly of fire. When he _goes off_ , power just pouring out of him in waves of light and destruction, at least others notice it. It’d be hard not to, but guess what’s also hard to ignore? The fact that for _a whole bloody day_ Snow kept leaving _glowing footprints_ behind him as he walked-

-and yet. It’s just me.

…I have to be the one that’s mad.

* * *

I try to steal his voice, and mess it up spectacularly.

I wander around the catacombs, and don’t really get why he’s chasing me for being a vampire when he’s just as otherworldly as I am. Bloody hypocrite.

I get kidnapped. It’s painful. It’s painful in the way there is nothing to do but wait in the dark for hours and hours and hours and- it’s painful, because my leg will never be the same, and it’s painful because I’ve forgotten what walking feels like or what eating’s like, or what light even looks like—

Locked inside an abyss. It feels like that. So I think of Snow, of his blue eyes – of his abnormality – of the way he looks like curled up on his bed in the morning, entirely human, messy curls and face soft with sleep-

I get rescued by Aunt Fiona.

* * *

He came to Hampshire. Simon Snow actually took a train to Hampshire just to tell me-

“Ebb the _goatherd_ ’s brother is Nicodemus?”

He explains. I argue to him that _that’s not how being a vampire fucking works_ \- he argues back, blue and green shadows stirring agitatedly behind him, flowing and jumping, dissolving and expanding. They melt into the floor as soon as the argument does…

And then it’s somehow dinnertime. Snow looks miserable, which could have been almost funny if not for how he suddenly leaves afterimages, fleeting impressions left hanging in the air as he shifts in his seat. The air about him shimmers, and I look at my father, at my siblings – but of course no one notices anything strange. Not anything stranger than having Simon Snow, the Chosen One, here for dinner at his sworn enemy’s manor…

-and when it seems like _he’s_ got vampire’s teeth for a moment, I almost choke on my own spit.

* * *

We go out to hunt down Nicodemus Petty.

…And that ends with me almost crashing my father’s car, tears burning on my cheeks as I abandon it in a ditch, storming away. Snow calls after me, but I ignore him because it doesn’t fucking _matter_. Nicodemus was entirely _right_ – my mother would have killed me, it’s the one thing I still haven’t-

She _died_ killing vampires, so I should just go ahead and do the same-

And the inferno thrashes up like a whirling storm of heat and light. Flash paper. Oily rags. It would take so little for me to _just-_

But then Snow comes thundering. And of course I can’t let that idiot die – except I might, actually, just standing here and looking into his eyes as we burn with the forest. His eyes, blue, so blue even when reflecting the roaring blaze all around us… And I might, actually, let us both die, but first I think I’m going to kiss him- it’s barely a decision at this point, just like _kill yourself Baz_ was barely even a decision anymore-

And then he kisses me.

Then _he_ kisses _me._

Which-

 _Yes_. It’s better than I ever thought in my most private daydreams, but mostly it’s just… warm. Everything’s so scorching hot. He tastes like peppermint, then like ash, like strawberries, like salt-

But _no. No,_ he’s going to die here- He’s going to die kissing me, _here, now,_ and that is unacceptable-

I break away, stumbling, flicking my wand urgently as I scream, “ **Make a wish!** ”

A single tree goes out, only to immediately catch fire again. This is never going to work, it’s impossible. The dry grass is burning up in moments, and then it’ll be-

Snow puts his hands on my chest, and then it’s like cold water pouring over me. Like burning water. Like pure magic- “ **Make a wish!** ” –and every lick of flame goes out, all at once. The dark and the quiet, back in just a second, like all air was sucked out of this pocket universe in which Snow wants me and I can have him…

We look at each other, Snow’s eyes shining blue in the dark.

And then I look at his neck, at that annoying cross, and reaches down, and yanks it off. Throws it away, down at the ground. Looks again- 

This time, his mouth is just as warm as before, even though nothing’s burning anymore.

* * *

It has to be around dawn, now. The shadows in my room have changed shade, changed shape, and I haven’t looked at a clock for hours. What I certainly _have_ done for hours, is to kiss Snow. And not just his mouth- his cheeks, which sent cold tingles into my lips. His moles, which turned to stars fleetingly, to golden sparks. His neck, to which he gasped and moaned and turned to kiss me instead…

We’re laying on the floor, not really touching anymore. Just an occasional brush of hands, legs.

I’m – I feel, right now, almost happy. Mostly weird, a bit confused. Tired. Weary and exhausted and so relieved and confused that I’m _happy_ , almost afraid to be.

Snow speaks, suddenly. “So I know you’ve… noticed. Something odd about me?”

“If this is about your apparent bisexuality, then yes, I might have.”

He groans, and says, “No, not that – I mean. My magic’s a bit…”

“Unstable?” I can’t resist.

He sighs, this time. “Well, yeah. It’s – I know my eyes sometimes change colours. Or my skin.” I don’t reply, because now I lay still and quiet, waiting – for a confession? Explanation? _I don’t know._ Snow says, haltingly, “It’s my magic. There’s too much of it or- or it’s just slipping out? All the time. And then I _go off_ and it just.

“I don’t know _why_. Or what it is, what _I_ am-“

I place my hand over his mouth, which he _really_ doesn’t like but I have to say- “You’re Simon Snow. That’s it – you’re Simon.” _Simon bloody Snow. Annoyance, enemy, can’t tell what’s end or front of his wand. A menace, not even human-_

-but I’m not human, either. And while I’m cold and lifeless and inhuman, Simon Snow is alive, _so alive_. He’s bright and wondrous and _alive_.

He peels away my hand, but… he’s smiling. Softly. My insides do some sort of complicated dance ritual which it is too early in the morning for, and Snow says, “Thank you.” –which really doesn’t make things better, because now I just want to fucking hold him in my arms. Forever. (The Humdrum can go fight someone else; Snow’s mine)

So instead I open my mouth and say, “Anyway, I like your magic. Kind of. It’s very- it’s different, it makes you unique, and-“ _dammit._ “- and we match.”

“We match? Because my _magic_ ’s all kinds of fucked up?”

“And because my _life_ ’s all kinds of fucked up. I’m a vampire, Snow, and you-“

“-and I’m not human?” Snow says, a bit sadly.

“No,” I say, fiercely. (Where are all these passionate confessions coming from?) “You’re a wonder. A-“

“A disaster.”

“And that’s why we match,” I finish. “And you’re the best-looking bloke I’ve ever met, so there’s that, too.”

* * *

Turns out that maybe Snow was _right_ , maybe he did have too much magic. So… he gave it all to the Humdrum. And then The Mage died – or more like we three murdered him. The Mage. At _Watford-_

I don’t think about that, usually, nor talk about it.

The hilarious-but-not-really thing of this story, is that after Simon lost all that magic, that vast galaxy full of strange and radiant power, he got stuck with wings. And a cartoonish tail, because that’s just his luck, isn’t it? –and the part which feels strangest to _me_ , is that everyone can see it. The wings, the tail-

His eyes doesn’t ever change colours anymore. I… wouldn’t say I miss it, but now it just doesn’t happen anymore. And I had gotten used to it before, so now _normal_ is the new _strange_ …

“I even miss the – the stupid and weird parts…” Simon confesses, late one night when we’ve almost fallen asleep on the sofa and our legs and thoughts have tangled. “The annoying parts of it. I – I almost miss _going off_ , just because it was _magic_ , and I love magic and now-“ he finishes quietly, “-and now it’s just not _there_ anymore.

“Like, I don’t miss the spells – I couldn’t ever get them to work. Just – magic, the feel of _magic_.”

I take his hand, because I don’t have words right now. And he squeezes back, because he usually doesn’t have words, and gets what I’m not-saying.

…I can’t imagine how it’d feel like to lose all my magic. Like losing a limb? Like losing a vital part of yourself which- like losing your second language? 

And Snow _was_ magic. Deep like an ocean, burning like a fire – he was like a king, like a chosen one. He was magic. And he lost it...

-Which shows more and more each day, how bright and marvellous and incredible he can be _without_ it.

**Author's Note:**

> i was going for a sad ending BUT


End file.
